


To lean on

by healingmirth



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Broadway, M/M, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:58:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/healingmirth/pseuds/healingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is definitely the first time they've woken up together naked. Almost definitely the first time they've woken up together naked.  Definitely the first time they've woken up together naked sober.  Naked, sober and together, if they're together now, that is;  they were definitely <em>together</em> last night."</p><p>Tunny and Will, the morning after, proving that it wasn't just a one-night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To lean on

**Author's Note:**

> No idea who I'm talking about? Here, have [half a primer](http://healingmirth.dreamwidth.org/127125.html).

It's not that he and Will have never woken up together. They've passed out on each others' couches or floors, in each others' beds, more times than Tunny could count, if he wanted to. He doesn't want to count, though, because counting would mean remembering all that time they'd all wasted on being young and dumb.

This is definitely the first time they've woken up together naked. Almost definitely the first time they've woken up together naked. Definitely the first time they've woken up together naked sober. Naked, sober and together, if they're together now, that is; they were definitely _together_ last night.

It's light in the room, but without the mid-morning sun that comes in the windows and starts the summer's daily bake. Tunny rolls over to look at the clock, but it's not in sight. He has a vague memory of wrestling with the bedside table at some point, and it looks like the clock came out the loser in the fight: when he pushes up onto one elbow he can see that it's resting on the baseboard between the table and the wall.

It's also cold in the room. The window a/c unit's been cranked up to high for the past week. It keeps the house from being unbearable by mid-afternoon, but it's goddamn freezing first thing in the morning. This is the first night he's gone to bed without a shirt and a pair of sweatpants piled nearby so that he has something warm to put on when he wakes up. The lack of clothing close at hand makes him feel even more naked, and he looks over to check whether Will's still asleep.

He's got nothing to be ashamed of, but even if he did, Will'd seen it all and then some last night. He'd touched most of it, too, but now Tunny's awake, and Will's sprawled on his back on the other side of the bed, mouth open and just on the near side of snoring. A small part of Tunny wants to stay in bed and wake him up, see where things stand and maybe have some good-morning sex. But pretty much the rest of him wants to have some quiet time in his head, and needs to piss like a horse, and that wins out.

It's when Tunny's sitting on the edge of the bed, having the same debate that he has just about every morning (between waiting long enough to put his leg on, finding his crutches, or just hopping to the bathroom while managing what feels like 5 gallons trying to escape from his bladder) that he realizes that his bedroom is a disaster, and that he has absolutely no idea where his leg is. It's got to be there somewhere, but between the quilt and the extra set of clothes on the floor, he can't see much carpet left. There's no telling where it is, and he's not in the mood to crawl around on the floor looking for it. The good news is that the space between the bed and the bathroom is clear, so if he hops, he's probably not going to sprain his ankle by landing on something uneven.

On a normal day, those first decisions upon waking up depend on a lot of things: whether he's hung over, whether he's ahead of or behind schedule for getting ready for work; whether his body fucking hurts and whether he just wants to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep. On the one hand, Will is just another variable; on the other hand, it's a nice break from the everyday.

What makes the decision for Tunny is realizing that he _really_ doesn't want Will to wake up just yet. With the clear path across the carpet to the bathroom door, he can get there without too much clatter, so he pushes himself up off the bed. A few hops gets him to the dresser so that he can fish out a clean pair of briefs, and then a couple more gets him to the door into the bathroom. When he turns around to check, Will hasn't even twitched at the noise, so mission accomplished.

He drops the briefs on the counter to deal with later, and gets the business of emptying his bladder done. Tunny's just finished brushing last night out of his mouth and thinking about washing his face or maybe taking a shower when Will appears behind him in the open doorway.

Will found his t-shirt and boxers somewhere. He looks like he needs another few hours of sleep, but rumpled and pale has always looked good on him. When Tunny meets his eyes in the mirror, they both smile, but Will looks about as uncertain as Tunny feels. It sparks a need to reassure Will, when a couple minutes earlier Tunny hadn't been sure which way he wanted this to go. No matter what, he just wants it to go well. He wants them to always be comfortable with each other, so he smiles a little wider at their reflection, and Will looks a little less sheepish.

"Sleep well?" he asks, and Will shrugs, wobbles his head back and forth in a maybe. He really does look tired.

"Kinda cold," Will says, "and then when I woke up you weren't there." He takes the couple steps forward into the bathroom, and then it's clear that he's got maybe-more-than-morning wood when he brushes up behind Tunny. " 'S okay?" he asks, and Tunny nods. He feels a little less silly, standing naked at the bathroom sink, now that it's clear that Will's still interested. Will leans forward a little and sort of gently drapes himself over and around Tunny. He hooks his chin over Tunny's shoulder, turns his head and kisses Tunny's neck, probably right over the star. He'd done that a lot last night, putting his mouth on Tunny's tattoos, like it was something he'd been thinking about doing. It starts a warm feeling in Tunny's chest that he does it again.

"Can you, uh..." Will says, and looks down, then over his shoulder back into the bedroom.

Tunny doesn't try to fight the grin or the snarky comment that follows it. "Can I, uh, what, dickhead?"

Instead of straining his brain to string words together, Will makes his meaning clear by tightening his arms around Tunny and pulling him closer. He shifts until his dick's pressed up against Tunny's ass and then just holds there. It doesn't quite knock Tunny off-balance, but he gives in to the urge to steady himself on the counter anyway. "Standing up, I mean," Will says. "With, y'know, the mirror."

That makes Tunny grin, even though he's not entirely sure what Will wants, and not entirely sure he _is_ up for it. His dick's starting to get interested, though, and there's only one way to find out. "You kinky fucker," he says, laughing. "I go to bed with a nice suburban boy, and I wake up with someone who wants to watch himself fuck me."

Will flushes a little, mottled color on the side of his neck and a spot of pink on each cheek. "Fuck, man. Who wouldn't want to watch that?"

Tunny can think of at least a few people, the ones who still don't quite meet his eyes, and leave a buffer of dead air around him like he's contagious or fragile or about to blow up. There are a lot of people who don't touch him, but Will's never had that hang-up.

Of course, Will's never sober, and when Will's drunk or high, he touches everyone, all the time. So Will swings an arm around Tunny's shoulders or kisses him on the temple, punches him and calls him a cocksucker. It's like he's forgotten that Tunny is anything different than he's always been.

It's nice. It would have been nicer if it wasn't because he's always drunk, but it's still been nice.

So this, this is nicer, sober and in the low early-morning light coming through the bedroom window: Will's left hand on his chest, fingers spread and thumb just grazing his nipple; Will's body behind him, solid and warm and a little soft; Will's cock, firm against his ass; Will's right hand on his dick, too dry for anything serious but a nice steady pressure to rub against for now. Tunny's still got his hands braced on the counter, though, and there's a twinge in his left wrist that's distracting him from all the good feeling that's going on elsewhere.

That's a great metaphor for his whole damn life, right? This is everything he has now: safe, boring, maybe a little uncomfortable. Or he can take the chance that he's going to fall on his ass if he goes for something more.

So he pushes away from the counter's edge until Will's bearing some of his weight. There's a moment when Will seems to think that Tunny's trying to get away, so he leans his head back on Will's shoulder, opening his body up as he lets go of the counter to reach behind Will and grab his ass. Will shifts his stance a little, moves his feet until he's braced for the added weight of Tunny pushing back against him. Tunny bends his knee a little, wiggles to check their balance and then lets his body go loose enough to ride the rhythm that Will's setting with his hips. When he shuts his eyes, there's a second that's almost like vertigo, like his body thinks it's about to fall, but he keeps leaning and Will's arm around his chest keeps holding him steady.

The air's still chilly even though he's warm everywhere Will's touching him, and he can feel prickles of sweat turning cold on his chest. Will's t-shirt is a little bit damp between them, and it's starting to stick. Tunny's got his hands inside Will's boxers, and the waistband's starting to bind and chafe at his wrists a bit.

It's good, but it's not good enough. After a couple more minutes, even with Will's palm slippery with sweat and spit, Tunny can tell that his leg's going to get shaky before he gets off, and he can't really touch like this. He wants to. He wants to do something more than just hold on and let it happen. He also wants Will to be about 100% more naked while they rub off against each other.

"Nngh, hold on, wait," he says and lets go of Will's ass. He plants his right hand on the counter so he can turn around with some measure of grace, and when he's managed that he sits on the edge of the counter and spreads his legs so that Will can stand between them.

"Are you--" Will says. The next word is probably "okay" but it's lost to Tunny yanking Will's t-shirt off over his head. He pulls Will in for a kiss, guiding his head with a hand on the back of his neck; he pulls Will's body close with a hand on his lower back before putting both hands to the task of getting Will the rest of the way naked. It isn't until Will's boxers are around his ankles that Tunny notices he's wearing socks.

Will sees where he's looking before Tunny decides whether to laugh or sigh. "What?" he says. "It's fucking cold in here, dude. I already told you that."

Tunny just raises his eyebrows in invitation, and thankfully Will moves back in before he has to break out a line about warming him up. The first touch of naked skin against skin is more than Tunny was prepared for, and he almost gasps from the shock of it, but then Will's hands are on his ass, and Tunny's hands are in Will's hair, and they're tugging and groaning and Tunny's got his heel braced against the cabinet door so that he can push as Will pulls. It's great for a couple minutes: it's awesome, and wet, and Will's sucking on his tongue and Tunny can feel the hair on Will's chest against his nipples, and then Will puts on the brakes.

"Fuck," he pants. "Fuck, I gotta. Jesus, man. I." Will almost stops moving entirely. "I am so out of shape," he says.

Again, Tunny's torn between laughing and sighing. "Maybe you oughta lay off the booze and the smoke," he says. "Or do you need to lay back and let the real man do all the work?" Will pulls away far enough to look Tunny in the eyes, but that's all the space he needs to get his hand around Will's dick, and Will doesn't get a chance to say whatever comeback he'd been gearing up for.

Instead he just closes his eyes and says something like, "Jesus. Fuck. Oh, yeah T, c'mon," and Tunny uses his leg to move Will's hips closer to that he can jack both of them at once. Will's head drops so that his forehead's resting on Tunny's shoulder; Tunny can tell a minute later when he opens his eyes again because his breath hitches like he's surprised, and then there's just a whispered, "oh, oh, oh," as he watches their cocks slide in and out of Tunny's grip. Will freezes up for a second, even his hot breath on Tunny's collarbone stops, and then he comes in two quick stripes over Tunny's stomach.

Will's shoulders drop as he comes down, and it's obvious that he's headed back into useless territory so Tunny uses his free hand to grab Will's sweaty hair and pull his head up, bites Will's lip to get his attention and then sucks it into his mouth while he brings himself off with sweat and come and his cock pushing into Will's stomach every few strokes. When he comes he lets go of Will's hair and hooks his arm around Will's neck. He holds their bodies close and leans, and trusts that Will will learn to bear up under it.


End file.
